After Hours
by Guardian of Hope
Summary: After a hard day, the RPM Rangers retreat to their rooms and settle down. Various times in the series, no 'ships. Slightly AU as per episode 'Dr K'
1. Not Just A Scientist

Disclaimer: Don't I wish, but no, I got a book, new glasses and some cash for my b-day instead.

A/N: This is...the other side of the coin, I guess. Doc can't always be the chick in the lab coat, right? For some reason, this story was inspired by the song 'Who Needs Pictures?' which I don't get because there's nothing here like the song. Due to the fact that I have a second, similar story written and a third bubbling in my brain, this is now a series. That's why it got deleted and reposted.

_Set After Ranger Green._

* * *

As the computers slowed their processors, Dr K picked up the card board box waiting by the printer and headed out into the Ranger Room. As the door to the control room slid shut and sealed she triggered the remote that would open the door to her own quarters. Hidden beside the ranger suite display, the simple door hid a set of rooms that would have roused the envy of the rangers. The entrance was blocked from the rest of the room by a seven foot long wall covered on this side with an array of outer wear, ranging from the white hooded cloak she'd used to rescue Ranger Green through body armor to sub-zero gear. There was even a set of chain mail on the end, a long ago gag gift from her best friend.

K set down the box long enough to hang up her lab coat, and then walked down the corridor with it tucked under her arm. After clearing the wall, K stopped long enough to admire the warm and inviting room beyond. Originally, the room had been decorated by one of the top interior designers to make it to Corinth before the dome had been finished, but three years of living had worn off the polished perfection, and a bad habit of 'bringing her work home' had seen to the replacement of the most uncomfortable furniture pieces. In fact, the room was a comforting mix of the ultra-modern, in the chrome and black lacquer shelving around the television and book shelf, to the ultra-shabby, in the faded blue chair that she had insisted on having pride of place before said television.

The walls were a warm golden color with images of nature around it to remind her of what they were fighting for. Except one wall. The seven foot wall that created the hall was, in fact, white, a color barely visible around the various frames and pictures that covered the wall down to the ground. The center picture consisted of two dark haired little girls with happy smiles as they hugged each other tight. Around them were other pictures of the pair and of K over the years accepting awards and honors from various places, from a first grade spelling bee to gaining her doctorate in rocket science. She didn't stand long look at the wall, instead, she walked into another of the rooms, the room that had seen the birth of the Ranger Operator Bio-Hardware, or, her lips twitched, the 'glorified spandex' as one of her lab partners had termed it. He'd been fine after the testicle retrieval surgery, but he'd never come back to the bio-electric project.

One wall of the nearly bare room had been painted white as opposed to the pale gold of the other three. There were five picture frames that dominated the wall, three of them were filled, but the last two were still blank. K sat the box down on her work table and removed the two empty frames. From the box she took two pictures and put them into the frames before hanging them up. Now the familiar faces of Scott, Summer, Flynn, Dillon and Ziggy look out into the room that had begun everything. From a drawer, K took out some tape and dragged a stool over to the wall. She shifted through the box and came up with a picture and slapped some double sided tape on the back. Reaching up, she planted the image of Ziggy's shadow puppets, claimed from the prison security tapes, below the large picture. It was soon joined by Scott and Dillon, just after the words 'he can make shadow puppets' had crossed Dillon's lips. Summer's confrontation followed soon after.

Other pictures, taken since Dillon and Ziggy had arrived in Corinth and captured from the security feeds around the city, joined them. Finally, K took out her personal favorite, a picture she had looked for over several days:

Ziggy stood surrounded by the mob bosses, his head high and his features calm. Had the audio track played, he would have just said, "And to some people, even more."

Some might have laughed, but to K, this was the moment Ziggy had become Ranger Operator Series Green, even if he still had issues with teleportation.


	2. See It In Color

Disclaimer: Still Not Mine

A/N: Look, it's a SECOND CHAPTER. I didn't plan on it, but it came to me this morning. And I have a third brewing in the back of my mind.

* * *

Flynn poured the blueberry smoothie into a glass with a satisfied smile. In the top went a purple umbrella and straw, making it a perfect drink. He picked up the sandwich he'd already made and headed up the stairs to his room. It took juggling to manage the door with his hands full, but he'd practiced for nearly a year and now knew the perfect way to juggle everything.

Once safely inside, he used his elbow to push the lock out of habit and walked over to set the plate and glass down on his desk. Then he collected his sleepwear and went down the hall to the bathroom to shower; which only highlighted the stupidity in his habit of locking his door. Before Corinth, Flynn had been rather indifferent to what he slept in, but after that first middle of the night call after they'd moved in and he'd been wearing just boxers when he'd flown out his bedroom door, Flynn had made a conscious choice about his sleepwear. Now, pajama pants and a t-shirt were the apparel of choice.

Once back in his room, Flynn slipped on a set of head phones and took out his journal. Not that he actually recorded his life in the battered spiral the way many did. He had filled the book with amusing stories, quotes, and even drawings to emphasize things. Tucked into the pages were pictures as well, four, in fact, that fell out when he dropped the spiral on the desk. He picked them up and looked at them again. The first was a woman with wispy, brown hair and a tired smile, once she might have been beautiful, but she was now pretty. He smiled sadly as his thumb ran over the edge of the picture and he slipped it back into its place, again securing it with a paper clip.

The second picture was a truck, a yellow one with dents and a few rust spots. The bed was slightly off in color from the cab, and the hood was different from both. He smiled; he'd loved that old Chevy. It had been his first truck, bought from the mechanic who had taught him the basics to caring for cars. It had run nearly perfectly up until the day the Grinders came, and he had hated to leave his labor of love behind, but his life had been more than the truck.

The third picture also featured a vehicle. It was a Jaguar; however, painted a blue so deep it was nearly black. Standing beside it was an androgynous figure in jeans and leather jacket. The clothing fit, but was also loose enough to hide any gender identity, and the person's face was covered behind a black helmet visor. The background was Corinth, Mac's Garage, in fact. He'd been tempted to show the picture to the others before, but even he knew that they would make a mountain out of a molehill in their search for the identity of JC.

The fourth picture was the newest, and it had taken some persuasion from the good Dr K to get it. That day before the wedding paraphernalia had been taken away, Summer had insisted on a picture. Scott and Dillon, as the tallest, were on the outside, with Ziggy next to Dillon and Flynn himself by Scott. Summer had stood before Flynn and Dr K stood, still in the wedding dress she'd put on, between Summer and Ziggy. They all had copies of the picture now, it was an agreed upon favorite. Flynn slipped it under the paper clip on the open page and picked up his pen to write while idly taking the first sip of his smoothie.


	3. Que Sera Sera

Disclaimer: I don't own Power Rangers, song/title comes from 'The Man Who Knew Too Little' and Doris Day.

A/N: No apologies, I wanted my pony.

When Summer had first seen her room, she'd fought very hard not to fall back on her old ways. Yes, her closet back home had been of an equal size, and her room at least twice that, but she hadn't used all of the space, it had simply been there for size. Her room now comfortable fit a full size bed, desk and dresser, with her closet sharing the wall with Scott's room, providing a modicum of sound proofing, and her full bath was centered on the wall opposite. Across from the door out into the Garage, however, was Summer's most precious feature. The overly large bay window led out to the fire escape, there was a set of stairs that extended to the ground, and a ladder leading to the roof. Earlier that day, the stairs had given her access to the catwalk when she'd been hunting Tanaya, but it was the roof that made Summer's room worth while.

With Dr K's permission, Summer had turned the area near her ladder into a place where she could practice katas, meditate, or even sun bathe, should she have that rare gift of 'free time'. Best of all, the second fire escape let out into an empty room, so she had her sanctuary all to herself. Or at least, she remembered, it had been empty. But Dillon seemed to be content with hiding in his room and had yet to explore the fire escape outside his window.

Tonight, Summer hadn't climbed to the roof, but simply sat on the small bench she'd put outside her window and brushed her hair. It wasn't easy to keep her long hair tangle-free, but she was resistant to Dr K's suggestion that she cut it all off. She loved her hair, tangles and all, and it would take a lot more determination to make her chop it off.

Once it was brushed, Summer turned to her favorite pastime, jewelry making. She didn't wear jewelry much anymore, but she had found it peaceful to design and put together everything from the simple shell necklace that Flynn always wore, to the tiara that she had used to celebrate her eighteenth birthday a year ago. Tonight, she was working on a necklace for Dillon, similar to the one Flynn wore, and that Scott had, somewhere in that disaster area of a room. For Dillon, Summer had chosen to use only black beads, but to use a few different sizes to give it an aesthetic quality. After Dillon, she had designs for Ziggy and Dr K as well, plans that had been bubbling out of her mind since she'd first realized that Dr K was a girl and that she was forming a friendship with the Green Ranger.

A gentle wind blew through the night, and the occasional bird or insect cry made it easy for Summer to forget that she was living in an artificial environment protected by a dome under siege from a computer, and that she was tasked to defend said environment and dome from said computer. For a moment, she was just another girl.

She heard the camera near her perch swivel for a moment before turning back to the alley and knew that Dr K had left the control tower, a sound followed by the heavy tread of Flynn, coming up from getting his 'midnight snack', Summer thought with a smile.

"_Que sera sera_

_Whatever will be, will be_

_The future's not ours to see_

_Que sera sera_

_What will be, will be"_

Summer's smile grew, even as her curiosity grew, who was playing that song? She didn't think it was Scott or Flynn; they were too much into rap music for this.

"_ZIGGY, SHUT THAT MUSIC OFF!"_ Scott bellowed suddenly and Summer was hard put to not giggle as the music faded away. Somehow, she hadn't thought Ziggy was the one listening to it, but at the same time, it struck her as amusingly appropriate.


	4. Something To Be Proud Of

Disclaimer: I haven't seen hide nor hair of a Power Ranger here

A/N: So, here's Scott's story. It follows after Summers (obviously). It's also a lead in for Ziggy's chapter, in a way. Oh, and this is ALL MINE, so if any part of it is bad, sorry.

* * *

Scott rolled his eyes as the music went silent. Honestly, he worried about Ziggy sometimes; the man must have been dropped on his head as a child or something. He winced slightly and reminded himself that he was trying not to think like that about their green ranger. No matter how simple Ziggy appeared to them, Scott had to remember that Ziggy was startlingly complex. He was so open and yet full of surprises, uncertain, yet so sure of himself. He was a study in contrast.

Scott turned back to his notebook, the one that he hid and would never show anyone. It had been a gift from his brother, Marcus, when he had left home for college and a future place in the Air Force. Marcus had known about his poetry, but he'd never told anyone, even The Colonel. Scott knew that Marcus had carried the poem Scott had written for him in his pocket up until the day he died; it was one of the little things his brother had done that had made him Scott's favorite person.

Before he could fall into the depression that dwelling on Marcus tended to give him, Scott picked up his pencil, intent on the poem before him. It was one that he'd started shortly after Ziggy had begun living in the Garage, and it was almost finished, he could feel it. He tapped his pencil against the edge of the lap desk and considered the poem for a moment, and then he had it.

_You walked fearlessly among us_

_A friend now clad in green_

_Although we didn't think you could_

_You filled a desperate need_

He considered the line for a moment, and then nodded. It suited Ziggy, in an odd way. He might not _like_ the Green Ranger, but he did admit that he really couldn't see someone else wearing the green morpher now. He grinned, it wasn't like he'd tell Ziggy that, after all, there were things not done, and he wasn't going to _ever_ concede to Dillon without outside intervention.

It wasn't much of anything now, Scott knew, it was just, he didn't want to roll over too easily. He would never have Marcus's talent for leadership, he knew that, but Scott also knew that he had his own talents as well. He'd learned from Marcus, and from The Colonel, about leadership, and how to get his team to be just that, a team. He knew that he could trust Summer and Flynn with his life, but he still didn't really know Dillon and Ziggy. He would never have imagined that Ziggy would have gone from con artist to Good Samaritan, knowing that his life would be the price tag. Yet Ziggy had done it, and even if he wouldn't say it, he was proud of that choice. Dr K had let him see the footage from the Scorpion Cartel's headquarters, and the man who had stood to face down all five Cartels was nothing like the Ziggy that he saw every day in the Garage.

Point in fact; it wasn't until Dr K had shown up that Ziggy had taken on some of the personality traits that they accepted as 'Ziggy'. Scott looked out the window, wondering what was hidden beneath the Green Ranger's 'incompetent' exterior. He shook his head, Ziggy was a mystery that would have to be uncovered carefully; his façade was too firmly entrenched for a rough approach.

Scott turned a page in his notebook and wrote Dillon's name on it, then he settled back in his pillows to think about the black ranger and see what would come out of the back of his mind. Because he'd once again run into the wall that so aggravated him about Ziggy. The Green Ranger had talent, skill and wasn't as stupid as one might think, but he hid it so deeply that many people over looked those moments of competence.

Dillon, on the other hand, was a different mystery, with his search for someone he couldn't remember; nature as course as the sand in the wasteland, and path that he seemed to follow instinctively no matter what. He paused, maybe that was why Dillon and Ziggy had been drawn to each other, they were both mysteries wrapped in secrets.

* * *

AN2: Any one curious about the rest of Ziggy's Poem can see it on my website. I may even find enough inspiration to write poems for the others, but I wouldn't count on it.


	5. Top Banana in the Shock Department

Disclaimer: I had a dream and Dr K said I could write fanfic about RPM, does that count?

A/N: Second to last, somehow, it seems to work.

* * *

Ziggy hated his room. He'd not even had a chance to pick it; this was the room nobody else wanted. With Scott on one side, and the bathroom on the other, Ziggy rarely was able to pursue his own hobby. Oh, he could draw, paint, or even mess around with clay all he wanted, but the music moratorium emplaced by Scott made it hard for Ziggy to really let go and work.

It wasn't that Ziggy hated the music that Scott, Flynn and Dillon listened to constantly; in fact, he liked that music a lot. It was just, when he was working on a project; he turned to really old classics. His first real art teacher had adored Doris Day, among others, and had always had that sort of music playing. Que Sera Sera was an old favorite, as was Moon River. There was something about the grand music of the silver screen that just opened him up to so much more talent than he normally had.

As he perched on the stool he'd stolen from the kitchen, with the blank page before him on a make-shift easel, Ziggy wished that he would stop drawing the monsters they'd fought lately. Although Tanaya's image had been exceptional, some of the others were…disturbing. He ripped off another drawing of Tanaya, dropped the charcoal he'd been holding back into its case and flipped open his box of paints.

Foregoing the brushes, Ziggy used his fingers to begin, letting the image of Dr K fill his mind. He would do the final touches with a brush, but he'd long since felt a connection to his medium when he could feel it in his hands. After getting Dr K's lab coat roughed out, he began a second image, and in his mind eye, the picture took on a life of it own.

Dr K sat at her computer desk, with Dillon leaning over her shoulder to point at something on the screen. As Ziggy switched to brushes for greater detail, he noticed just how relaxed they looked, how natural. He knew that some people tended to ignore the obvious, but this image, a memory of Dillon and Doc going over the equations from the meet and greet, conveyed so much. But it also left so much unsaid.

Ziggy dropped his brush and ripped the painting off the pad of paper. It wasn't right, he thought as he balled it up. The relationship _he_ saw between Doc and Dillon was so hard to capture. He glared at the wall between his room and Scott's, the one thing keeping him from actually reaching the inspiration he needed. Then he grabbed a black charcoal piece and began to draw with harsh, thick lines. In moments, he found himself again staring at Tanaya 7.

Ziggy dropped the charcoal in disgust and got up; clearly he'd find no artistic release tonight. After he pulled off the overly large smock he used when painting or drawing, Ziggy left his room and ducked into the bathroom to scrub the paint off his arms and charcoal from his fingers. He didn't want the others to know about this, his work was too personal to share. Maybe, if he could become sure that they wouldn't hurt or betray him, he'd show something, but for now, they'd have to deal with incompetent Ziggy, because he wasn't ready yet to let them see the most vulnerable part of himself.

Cleaned up, Ziggy stepped out of the bathroom and found Dillon waiting. He couldn't help it, he gave a mild glare towards the man who had awoken his muse and set him trembling with the need to capture _something_ on paper, but wouldn't come clear enough to know just what.

"What?" Dillon asked, surprised.

"Nothing," Ziggy said, "hey, do you have any more of those lollipops? I want something sweet and Flynn said that if any more of his fruit went missing he'd make sure we had special training together."

Dillon raised an eyebrow before heading into the bathroom.

"Was that a yes?" Ziggy called through the door.

"Ziggy!" Scott said, leaning out his door, "go to bed. Now."

"Ok, ok," Ziggy muttered, "sheesh."


	6. I'm A Nightmare Not A Hero

Disclaimer: Well...Dr K said I could...

A/N: It's finished! Go me!

* * *

Dillon had ensconced himself in a battered couch in the Garage, and sat there, listening to the others put themselves to bed. Dr K had finally left the Ranger Room, he knew. He couldn't actually hear her, but the screens were off and the almost persistent hum of the computers had faded somewhat. Upstairs, it sounded like Summer had climbed onto her fire escape, which she seemed to do every night. He'd snuck over to her corner of the roof a number of times to verify that assessment over the past few months. He'd seen Ziggy and Scott in their rooms, and had heard Flynn go into his room even earlier than that.

The black ranger leaned against the arm rest and let his feet rest on the other side as he regarded the room. There wasn't much living space down here, despite it being the congregating area for the group, and he wondered why. Oh, there was the kitchen, and Flynn's smoothie corner, and this couch and a couple of chairs, but otherwise, the room had been given over to the three cars and Summer's bike collection.

He knew that beyond the Ranger Room was where Dr K worked on new Ranger tech, and there was an underground level where the Zord Attack Vehicles were kept until they were needed. Upstairs were the five bedrooms and two bathrooms they used. This told Dillon that the building had been something else before being converted for their use, and the living facilities had been an after thought.

Personally, Dillon didn't see why they hadn't added a third floor for the Rangers to live in, instead of this slap-dash assortment. For that matter, Dillon found himself wondering why the Rangers didn't make more use of the roof. Summer clearly had taken over a part of it, but there was plenty of room, and the stairs outside Flynn's room provided easy access as well. Dillon shifted, and frowned as something broke his concentration by jabbing his side. He dug into the couch and came up with a book with a flower on the front of it.

Curious, Dillon opened it, and found it to be a book on gardening. The different plant pictures captured his attention, and then the complex tips drew him even further in. Eventually, Dillon closed the book, his mind filled with images and facts about different plants. He headed up the stairs to his room, wondering just why this book stuck with him so strongly. He'd developed a fascination with books since he'd come to Corinth, but none of the so-called hobby books had held his attention quite like this one book on gardening. He stepped into his room and took a deep breath, catching a hint of the world outside before he walked to over to slide the book into his steadily filling bookshelf.

He then opened his window and slipped out onto his fire escape, where two small pots were located. In one was a daisy, and the other held the start of a climbing ivy vine that he'd rescued from some gardeners. He rested a hand on the ivy plant's pot for a moment, one finger stirring the dirt enough that his sensitive nose could catch its scent. It was a refreshing smell that made Dillon relax, he could feel the perpetually tense feeling in his shoulders ease slightly as he crouched over the two plants.

After a moment of silent introspection, he got to his feet and headed back into his room, to stretch out on his bed and try to get a few hours before his nightmares stole his sleep again.


End file.
